A Time Long Forgotten
by FlamingHazleGreen1806
Summary: Italy desperately wants to go back in time. Back to when they were still friends. Back to when they were still in an alliance. Back to when they were still on the island. Back to then they were still….close. An angst Gerita. Hints at rape. NOT a suicide fic, I promise.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hi people of the internet~! Ok, as I said, this is NOT a suicide fic. That's all I'm going to explain in chapter 3. Why 3 and not 2? Well, this chapter is from Italy's point of view. The next chapter will be from Germany's point of view. Anyway, I hope you like this~!**_

Italy stood on top of the railing of the rocking boat, breathing in the salty air shakily. No one even bothered to remember whose _smart_ idea it was to bring the G8 onto a cruise. To most of them, it was a very nice thing. To Italy, however, it was anything but. Normally, he could just go to his hotel room and cry, but he wasn't able to now, because the walls were so thin. He was currently wishing he could go back in time. Not to say that this time period was bad or anything. In fact, it was quiet pleasant.

But, if he could do anything, anything at all, he would go back to World War II. No, not back to all the fighting (anything but that), but back to when he would spend his time with Japan, and especially with Germany. Ever since the war had ended, things had been uncomfortably tense between himself and the German Nation. And Japan had made new friends. Well, it had actually started before the war had ended. It began with his betray to the Axis Powers and then Germany's…Italy shuttered as he rubbed his arms, phantom pains running though his body at the memories.

However, he didn't blame Germany. He could never blame Germany, not even once. Italy remembered the look in his eyes when _it_ happened. The cold, emotionless, blank blue eyes of an Aryan solider. It was exactly what his boss at the time had wanted. Italy sighed as he rubbed the pendant at his neck; the Iron Cross that Germany had given him when they had formed the Pact of Steal. He didn't know why he kept it. Romano had tried to throw it away, but Italy had managed to hide it from his older brother. Maybe it was a reminder of what could have been, and that's why he kept it clasped around his throat.

Honestly, he just wanted his old Doistu back. The one who reluctantly held him close, not pushed him away with unfeeling stairs; the one who he could always hug whenever he wanted, not act with, making him feel like they were total strangers; the one he loved, not the one who made it appear as if he hated him with every fiber of his being. Italy knew he should have listened to his brother, to stay as far away from the German as far as possible, but…he sighed to himself again, wondering if this would really work. He was about to let himself fall into the warm water of the MedertarainaSea, when he heard a voice behind him. _That_ voice.

"I-Italy?" He heart wrenched, he hadn't heard _him _speak his name in what felt like forever.

"H-hello Germany…"

"What are you doing?!" Italy flinched, but turned around, still balancing on the rail. Mio dio, he looked so angry.

"I-I just wanted s-some fresh air." He flinched again as Germany's glair deepened, darkening his brow.

"You know what I mean! Why. Are. You. On. The. Railing?" Italy was about to stutter out an answered, when the boat hit a particularly large wave, knocking him off of his perch. However, Italy managed to grab on to it, gripping the railing with one hand. He heard Germany rushed to the edge of the boat.

Italy looked up, smiling ever so softly. Germany's eyes were so beautiful, such a sparkling blue and clear. He so desperately wanted to kiss him, telling him how much he loved him, no matter how selfish it was.

"It's ok, Germany… All you had to do was tell me. I would have listened." _You don't have to act any more…You can be free._

"Tell you what?!" Germany whispered. Italy sighed ever so softly.

"That you didn't want to see me anymore. That's all." He let the railing go, clutching at his Iron Cross. _I love you, Germany. I know this will make you happy…nothing will make me happier than that. _

_**Don't forget to look out for the next chapter~! Don't forget to read and reveiw~!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_***sniff* Hi guys... I was just reading this again... And now I'm crying... Will you guys promise not to hate me when you read this? Please? Anyways, I really hope you guys enjoy this! Don't forget to reveiw~!**_

Germany slumped into his bed, just barely able to fall asleep. Ever since Italy had betrayed the Axis, and what had happened after that, Germany found him self unable to sleep without the certain Italian cuddled next to him. He felt so guilty for following his former boss's orders, to 'invading' his friend, as he had. Well, _former_ friend, now. They hadn't spoken in years. He wouldn't ever put it past him if Italy hated him for everything he had done, especially to him. He certainly did. Whenever he managed to fall asleep, like he did tonight (if he became so tired from a lack of sleep), he dreamt of Italy. He always held the Iron Cross he had given him in a bloody grasp, fear and hatred in his eyes. And blood. So much blood. Way to much for it to have come from Italy's body alone.

"Why?" he always ask, much like what he was doing now. His voice was rasped and cracked, as if he'd been yelling too much. Or crying. "I thought you were my friend. How could you have done that to me?!" **_(Who said I wanted to? Who said I had a choice?!) _**He began to sob, breaking Germany's heart all over again. "I trusted you, you _BASTARD!_" He threw the Iron Cross at Germany, hitting him on the face, cutting it, adding to the blood on it. **_(I'm so so sorry) _**"I'll never forgive you." **_(I wouldn't expect you to…) _**He whispered. When the dreams **_(nightmares, Dummkopf) _**started, Germany had begged for forgiveness, only to have been shot multiple times with a gun that looked like the one he had given and trained Italy with. Now, he was just thrown to the ground. He didn't bother fighting back; he didn't deserve to fight back any more.

"I'm sorry." Was all he whispered closing his eyes; it really was all he could give.

"_Tch_. To think _you're_ the grandson of _Germania_." A different voice sneered. It was deeper than Italy's. Much deeper. Germany looked up, eyes open, as a foot fell onto his chest and a sword pointed at his throat, and the pissed off face of the Roman Empire appeared above him. "You gave up faster than I gave you credit for. What happened to your German spirit?" Germany couldn't find the energy to care, at the moment.

"If you're going to kill me, just do it." He muttered in a tired monotone. To his surprise, the sword moved from his throat, sticking into the ground, next to his shoulder as the Empire chucked darkly.

"Adalwolf would have my ass _again_ if I did, not that I intended to do so in the first place. I just want to know why you did what you did to my grandson." The back of Germany's head hit the ground.

"I felt betrayed…" he mumbled. "And hurt… Und mien boss's orders…" He sighed when he realized he was scrambling for excuses. "I…I have no excuse for what I've done." There was a soft sigh above his head and the foot lifted off his chest.

"You could have hurt him worse than you did." Germany closed his eyes to stop the tears from falling at the guilt. "I know you held back. You could have hurt him much, _much_ worse. I wouldn't forgive you if you had." A final sigh fled the former Empire's lips. "You're pretty lucky your grandfather's over protective of you, you know? So, any last words before I let you go?" Germany knew he might regret this, but he just _had_ to say it.

"Two things, actually. First, remained me never to cross you." The Roman Empire snorted. "And second, I can't help but get reminded of Romano when you are angered." This made the former Nation chuckle.

"Oh yeah, _that's_ why I trusted my killer's grandson with mine." Before Germany had time to react, surprise building within him, he instantly woke up, falling out of the bed. He landed with a harsh thud on the floor, before sitting back up and rubbing his head. Sighing, he walked out of the room, trying to clear his head. However, before he had walked a few meters, he saw a silhouetted figure, standing on the boat's railing. A shout formed in his throat, trying to say,

_'Get down from there! Don't you know it's dangerous?!'_ but then he realized who exactly it was.

"I-Italy?" he chocked out before he could stop himself. The man flinched, but didn't turn around.

"H-hello Germany." He practically whispered. Sudden anger filled the German. Was he trying to throw away his bright, cheerful existence from the world?!

"What do you think your doing?!" He shouted. Italy flinched again, but turned around, the same half-dead, powerless look in his eyes. The rail he was standing was supposed to keep people _on_ the boat, wasn't it?!

"I-I just wanted s-some fresh air." He murmured, some how still balancing. Germany felt a glair settle itself on his brow.

"You know what I mean! Why. Are. You. On. The. Railing?" Before Italy could even stutter out an answered, the boat hit a particularly large wave, knocking Italy off of his perch. However, Italy managed to hold on with one hand. Germany rushed to the edge of the boat. He was about to make Italy grab onto his hand, when he say Italy's expression. It was a mix of understanding and sadness in those clear, beautiful, amber eyes.

"It's ok, Germany." He said in a voice that nearly made Germany cry out. "All you had to do was tell me. I would have listened."

"Tell you what?" He choked out. "Italy, please take my hand."

"That you didn't want to see me anymore." He whispered, ignoring the hand. "That's all." And with that, Italy relaxed his hands and fell, plunging beneath the waves. The whole time, Germany was screaming his name, almost missing the small glint of a black pendant that Italy held in his hands, looking like how someone would hold a crucifix while praying.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Whoot! I'm back~~ Sorry I took so long! It turns out I was wrong, and you'll learn what happened to darling little Italy later~ Anyway, new chapter yay~**_

_**Hope you enjoy it!**_

1 Minute After

There is silence. Seconds later, a door slams open. Off in the distance, there is a shout of anger.

"POTATO BASTARD! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!" There is a loud clicking of a gun, and several shots are fired.

5 Minutes After

Blank blue eyes stare into the dark depths of the water below while chaos swirls around him. But he doesn't move. He is slumped to the ground on his knees, numb to the world.

10 Minutes After

The siren rings for a man overboard, foot steps echoing hurriedly around him, but the man still doesn't move. He can't. He can't (and won't) listen to anyone anymore. He is inconsolable.

60 Minutes After

"West?" He doesn't turn. The man (or what's left of one) doesn't even register his brother's call. A finger pokes his cheek. "Come one, West….. At lest look at me…" Slowly, his face turns and the albino flinches back from his brother's eyes. They are still blue, but they are flat and have no life in them. They are the eyes of a dead man.

70 Minutes After

"Come on West… Let's go…" His arm is pulled, but the shell of a man doesn't even blink. "West…." The older of the two sighs. "Just sitting here isn't going to help any…"

1 Day After

The albino runs a hand though his messy hair, looking down at his half-dead, baby brother.

"Bruder…" He half whines. "Come on…please don't do this to me…" the shell of a man on the bed doesn't stir. "West…" He hates when his brother is like this. It reminds him that he almost lost his brother twice before; once when he was a child, and once at the end of the second Great War, when 'Voldy' (as the albino calls him) decided that his country didn't deserve to live. He wouldn't almost loss him a third time.

1 Week After

Nothing changes with the tall, blond nation. He has all but given up eating and has locked himself away in his room. It came to a point (out of simple desperation) that the albino called two… friends?

"Germany, this is not a proper way for a nation to act!"

"Roderich, shut up! Germany? Sweeties, please come out!"

2 Weeks After

The shell of a man, who has been formulating a plan for about a week now, sits up, a single thought on his mind.

_I-I might have been unable to save him, but I can make it up to him…get him back home, where he belongs._

1 Month After

Most nations have agreed to help, but few have dropped out of the search already.

2 Months After

Even less have come for this expedition. And even fewer the next time. Most are losing hope. But the blond still refuses to stop. He can't

5 Months After

Very few are left now; only those who knew Him as more than just an alliance. But even they are staring to drop out. The Euro crises had been getting worse and worse, and they are, after all, only nations.

10 Months After

There are only two left now; a brother and a former friend. Neither has given up yet; the friend, because he has a vow to keep, and the brother because you do not give up on famiglia.

Even if they love Potato Bastards.

The pair continued this for two more months.

_**Don't forget to read and review~**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**I LIVE ONCE MORE! Haha, sorry for vanishing for a while *sweat drop* School's been really hard and I kept putting this off. But here the next chapter is~~~ I hope it's good. Thank you to all the people who've been encouraging me to continue, and please tell me if this is in character enough. Thank you all for reviewing and waiting for me~**_

One Year After

Romano 'tch'ed' angrily as the German seated across from him highlighted yet another island in bright red ink.

"Not that one either…" Germany mumbled, the words coming out more like he was talking to himself, rather than to Romano. He rand a hand though his hair, more strands falling out of the gel, joining the other locks in his face.

"Look dumbass," The Italian grumbles irritably. "If he had wanted to be found, we would have fucking found him already." He shoved in his chair, letting the legs scrap angrily on the stone tiles. Romano made his way to the door before looking back. Germany held his head in his hands, his fists clenched in his short, blond hair. His shoulders were shaking and he was muttering in his native tongue feverously. Romano almost even felt bad for the pain he must be going thought right now. Almost. You know, if this totally wasn't his goddamn fault this happened in the first place.

"See you next week, bastard." The southern part of Italy called behind him as he walked out the door. It had been almost a year since the night of on the cruise. About twelve months since anyone had seen the cheerful, northern half of their shared county. Just about three hundred and sixty five days since Romano had become slightly nauseous with his brother's heart ache. Romano's glair only deepened a he continued to walk back to his home, where Spain awaited him.

As he walked in, warm arms wrapped around his body, pulling him into a tight, long awaited embrace. There, he let go of the wall of anger that the tears were held behind.

"Shhhhh." The elder murmured, stroking his hair. "He's going to come home, I promise."

"I want my brother back, damn it!" Romano cried, clutching at Spain's shirt. The Spaniard held his lover, lading him to the living Room. He held him for what felt like hours, a common thing that had been occurring since the search for Italy had begun. After he finally calmed down enough, Spain helped him ups so they could eat the dinner he had prepared for him. Smiling sadly to himself, Spain brought out the dinner from the over, where he had been keeping it warm, just for his little Roma. As he always had when he got back, he make always made one of his lover's favorite dishes. When he placed everything on the table, he glanced up to make sure the younger man was alright. The concern that hit him was sharper than any knife and hurt more than any bullet ever had.

Romano wasn't even looking up as food was placed in front of him. Not good, not good at all.

His concern only deepened as Romano only picked up his fork and pushed the pasta around on his plate, not even spearing up the tomatoes onto his fork, like he would in the beginning. At lest then he was eating a little. Sadly, Spain sighed to himself. It was just going to one of _those _nights again, wasn't it?

"H-hey, bastard….!" He tried to shout, but all the anger had seemed to have been drain out of him at the moment. "I-I was st-still eating that!" Eyes narrowed in concern, Antonio placed the dishes back down, before looking down on the table at his former charge, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Lovi….." He murmured guiltily, walking and hugging him from behind and pressed his face into the young's hair. He hated when his lover look this sad, and he _hated_ when it was partially his fault. "You weren't eating. You _haven't _been eating…" He whined in concern, the accusation filled with worry as he tried to explain himself. "Please don't do this to me, amor. It scares me." The Italian shuttered, letting out a breath.

"Sorry." He muttered. "I….I just want Veneziano to be ok…. I miss him. Damn it." He leaned back into his lover. The Spaniard wrapped one arm around him, the other going up to pet his hair, occasionally going down and whipping away the younger's tears.

"Don't worry Roma." He said, kissing his cheek. "I'm sure he's fine. Besides-" there was a knock at the door, very quiet, and slightly timid.

"Don't worry, you finish eating." Spain murmured into his ear, letting him go., and pecked him for a second. "I'll go see who it is." He straightened his back, walking from the kitchen to the entryway where the door was.

"¡Hola!" He said cheerfully, a wide (fake) smile on his lips, his eyes closed, hiding in the pain he felt for his lover.

"V-ve? Big brother Spain, what are you doing here?"

_**These chapters feel like their getting shorter *sweat drop* Don't forget to review~~~**_


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